Judging Fish
by Scars of Friendship
Summary: Jim Kirk is a brilliant teacher, one of the best for his age in the country, but even he feels nervous starting at Enterprise High. And yet when he meets Leonard McCoy, that he instantly nicknames Bones, he knows that he's got his work cut out for him. He wants to bring the life back into McCoy, make him realise how brilliant he is. What he doesn't mean to do is slowly fall in love
1. Welcome to the Faculty Mr Kirk

**Judging Fish**

**by BrokenBones (Hikarinimichitasora)**

* * *

**Summary**: _"Everybody is a genius. But, if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it'll spend its whole life believing that it is stupid." – Albert Einstein _

Jim Kirk is nervous about starting in a new school, especially as a Second-in-Department. His nerves aren't soothed by the fact that his department seems to be made of an army of geniuses in their fields. While he's stressing about his own lessons, how to make his Department Head Spock like him enough to take his suggestions on board, and how the hell to get the school board to agree to paint the school corridors something other than grey, he meets Biology Teacher Leonard McCoy. The doctor is gruff, has given up on teaching but Jim sees a brilliance in him he can't describe. He makes it his personal mission to help McCoy, without realizing he's falling in love at the same time.

* * *

**Notes**: I'm going to apologise for inaccuracies. I know the UK education system, and have no IDEA about American ones. I am trying to keep things as vague as possible because of that but it might be a bit hazy in places or there might be things that are downright inaccurate. For that I apologise profusely. In any case, this is the first chapter of the Teacher!AU 'Judging Fish'. I hope you enjoy it.

* * *

Jim tapped his hands against the steering wheel of the car, looking at the building in front of him nervously. The first day at a new school always got to him. Every school was different, different paper work, different systems, different kids, different staffroom dynamics. He had never encountered one that had been similar to another. It wasn't that he was scared, although maybe he was a little. It was just that he needed to make a good first impression.

He was aware that outsourcing for a Second-in-Department and Teaching and Learning Co-Ordinator was practically unheard of, that he was waltzing into a job that someone might have been working exceptionally hard for. He had to come across as competent from the get go, and hopefully friendly.

He didn't feel he had to prove his credentials. Those spoke for themselves. His record was prestigious and most did a double-take when they saw his age. Old enough to have built a career, but still considered young by most in the profession seeing as he was only just on the wrong side of thirty. Yet he'd still achieved more in his short time than others would in their career.

He sighed and knew that he had to get out of the car. He opened the door to the stupid old thing that he was driving these days for lack of anything better, and got to his feet. The feel of mid-August was still in the air, the Georgia heat still prickling against his skin and down his back. He knew his suit was going to be driving him nuts by lunch time, but he still guessed he had to wear a tie, at least for now.

As he stepped across the car park, he tried not to feel too nervous. Enterprise High School was… well. It had seen better days. The building itself desperately needed work doing to it, and there were signs that the place had been vandalised over the summer by the local kids. Still, that wasn't too much to worry about. So, the school wasn't a suburban dream, he'd known that when he applied.

Stepping into reception he was glad that the receptionist was there, smiling at him with a large, bright smile. Her staff pass read 'Janice Rand' and he returned her smile, changing his briefcase from his dominant hand to offer it to her.

"James Kirk, er, Jim? I was told to start today?" he said, hoping he didn't sound like a moron. She smiled broadly and shook his hand, blue eyes twinkling.

"Welcome to Enterprise High, Mr Kirk. I'm Janice," she said, probably unnecessarily. "Why don't you sign in to that book there for now, and then we'll get you sorted with a staff badge and all those things in a moment."

Jim took the pen he was offered, filling out the relevant boxes to let people know he was onsite and glancing around as he did so. The school's colour scheme was a little drab, grey appeared to be everywhere. Very non-distracting, Jim supposed, but hardly something that would enthuse young people. He put the pen down, noticing that Janice was watching him avidly.

"Well then. If you want to follow me, I'll take you to the Science Office. Mr Spock, the Faculty Head, has been waiting for you," she said. Jim felt the nerves in his stomach increasing massively. He was about to meet his boss and although he'd met Spock, briefly, at interview, he'd not had the chance to strike up a conversation. In fact he'd got the distinct impression that Spock disliked him.

The corridors leading to the Science Department smelled of wet paint and plaster. Jim noticed that the walls had been freshly painted, although all either depressing white or grey as cold and impersonal as the front of school. There were a few displays, here and there, of student's work. Bright splashes of colour that were all too soon lost in the overwhelmingly depressing atmosphere.

"Who picked out the colour scheme?" Jim asked. Janice turned to him, flicking her blond hair over her shoulder in a way that she must have thought was attractive but just seemed very rehearsed.

"Oh, the school board pretty much dictate everything. Pike tried to talk them into having something else but they maintained that the school colour was silver so everything should be that horrible grey colour. Soul destroying in a way…" she said, shrugging, her bright smile juxtaposed against her words. Jim guessed he was going to have his work cut out if he was going to make any of the changes he was hired to bring about.

She took him up a flight of stairs and Jim purposefully didn't look at her behind as she did so. He saw her glance back once, but pretended to be taking in one of the displays and didn't make eye contact.

She drew to a stop outside the science office and rapped smartly on the door. Jim shuffled a little nervously behind her, adjusting his tie slightly, before the door opened. It revealed Mr Spock, tall, dark, incredibly handsome and almost certainly looking at Jim like he might just be a rabid dog off the street. Jim cleared his throat and held out his hand.

"Jim Kirk. We met at interview," he said, smiling as brightly as he could. Janice was beaming at him. Mr Spock just stared at him for a long moment.

"Mr Spock doesn't touch people," Janice chirped up and Jim felt like an idiot. He let his hand drop, forcing the smile back on his face. "Oh! I'll go and get your staff pass for you Mr Kirk!"

Jim watched her go, wondering if Mr Spock was going to leave him stood in the hallway. He didn't though, stepping aside to reveal the Science Office beyond. There aren't any desks in there, which Jim finds surprising. Instead there is a single large table in the middle, a coffee machine in the corner, a laptop charging station and a noticeboard full of rather uninspiring pictures of various scientific discoveries. All seemed to be a few years old. He took a seat, guessing that Spock probably wasn't going to offer him one if he waited, and put his briefcase on the desk.

"I did not receive a read receipt from the emails I sent you containing the schemes of work or curriculum planning, Mr Kirk?" Spock said, pouring Jim coffee before taking one himself. He sat down opposite Jim and stared at him. It was rather like being stared down by a predator and Jim shifted a little in his seat.

"I looked over them and planned my lessons for the start of term accordingly. I was hoping that there will be a chance to talk to you about it before the term starts however-"Jim began but at that moment the door opened in a cacophony of noise and laughter.

"And then Pasha just looked at him, and you can just imagine it right, like a puppy dog facing down a bear or something. But he says this threat in Russian and god, he could have been saying anything and it would have sounded threatening. This guy just pooped his pants and ran. We were calling him Baby Odessa for the rest of the trip!"

Jim got to his feet just as the man finished his story. The other spent a few moments just looking at him, then at Spock, before he smiled and held out his hand.

"You must be Jim, right? Hikaru Sulu, Biology. I look forward to working with you!" he said, shaking Jim's hand. Jim smiled in return and turned to the person with him. She was stunningly beautiful, her dark skin perfect in the way he thought was only possible in magazines. She smiled with only half her mouth, as though she knew everything that was going through his mind at that moment and didn't appreciate any of it.

"Uhura. Languages," she said, holding out her hand for Jim to shake as well. He took it, making sure to grip it just as he would a man's. She seemed to appreciate it a little as her smile widened a little.

"I'm going to need to know your last name if you want me to be able to refer to you in front of the kids," he said. Sulu's eyebrows rose a little and he looked at Uhura to see her reaction. Jim guessed he was about to strike out but he wasn't too fussed. He wasn't serious about flirting and he didn't want people to believe that he was here just to destroy their precious department.

"That is my last name," she said. Sulu mimed pouring water onto a burn but Jim just laughed good-naturedly.

"Well Miss Uhura, it's an honour to meet you anyway," he said, chuckling. Uhura inclined her head gracefully and went to help herself to the coffee pot.

"This office is a communal office for everyone on this floor normally. I'm one floor above, but I like spending time with the Doctor and a few others on this floor so I'll be around quite a bit. I'm sure you'll pick up my first name eventually, Mr Kirk, when you've earned it," she said as she sipped the coffee and went to sit down next to Spock. The other looked at her out of the corner of his eye and didn't comment on any of it.

"Pasha got held up in some traffic on the way in. He's going to be late for briefing. Doc's being his usual self as expected. Oh and Scotty needs dragging out of the supply cupboards I think. He's convinced someone stole his scissors over the summer and is trying to track down the new set," Sulu said, sitting down next to Jim. Jim was trying to take in names and put them to faces off the website, but it was difficult. He put his briefcase on the floor and tried not to take too much of the content in, but more of the feel.

Uhura and Sulu chatted, with Spock interjecting occasionally, and Jim got the sense they understood each other well. He could see there were strong bonds here already, ones that should have shown through in the department statistics. The fact that they didn't was why he was here, but he'd always thought that staff morale was one of the most important things in getting students their grades.

Soon the room was full of tired looking, but well-dressed teachers. 'Pasha' turned out to be Pavel Chekov, a genius in the realms of physics who had gone into teaching instead of a guaranteed illustrious career in research. Montgomery Scott was a physicist by trade who had ended up teaching chemistry at the high school due to there being a shortage and him having an interest in how to make various things go boom. It didn't take long before the three of them were having a rather heated debate and then Spock suddenly stood up.

The briefing was short and sweet. It briefly welcomed Jim to the department, before Spock started handing out paper work, copies of detention papers, explaining changes from the year before and new ways to write reports. They had three days before term started to get used to all the differences. Jim felt like it would take three months to take it all on board but refrained from commenting.

There was one empty seat with papers piled onto it. Chekov had been putting one there and when Spock dismissed them all, he took the spare pile and disappeared down the hall with it. The others continued to talk, Jim feeling increasingly antsy as they did. Eventually it was Uhura who noticed his restlessness and took pity on him.

"Want me to show you to your classroom? You can look over all the paper work and things," she suggested. Jim was on his feet before he'd even verbalised what a good idea it was. She smiled, indulgently like one would at a child, before getting to her feet as well.

The classrooms on the corridor were all an improvement on the dreary décor of the school at least. Uhura showed him Sulu's classroom, which had bright displays showing the workings of photosynthesis along one wall and along the back a collection of sunflowers, their faces turned towards the windows. Chekov's had a mobile hanging from the ceiling with a replica of the solar system. Spock's was… a little less personal, but had various helpful posters explaining chemical reactions. Jim finally found his room second to last on the corridor.

The sign on the front bore the mark of the last teacher before him, the plastic having faded around the stickers where their name had been. The new lettering didn't quite cover it, but still, it helpfully said his name and subject and that was more important than having a new door plaque he supposed.

He opened the door to see a room that had clearly been completely gutted, and obviously in a hurry. Displays had been ripped from the walls, but years of staples remained in the boards. Desks had been re-varnished but still bore the carvings deep into them of 'CC loves JR 4eva'. There was an archaic computer in the corner and paint was peeling off the door to the store cupboard.

"Well, I guess this is home," Jim said, keeping his tone neutral. Uhura's smile dropped slightly as she looked around.

"If you want I can give you a hand putting up some backing paper or something…?" she offered. Jim put his things down on his desk. It wobbled. One of the legs was apparently shorter than the others. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair.

"If you don't mind…?" he replied. Uhura made a face that said she did but was going to go through with it anyway.

By lunch time they had managed to cover most of Jim's boards with black backing paper and were sat cutting out silver shapes that would, Jim hoped, become a decent representation of how electrical current worked.

Uhura chatted about various things, her experiences in Europe when she'd been travelling, who to watch out for in the school, a few of the things that Jim should know about dealing with the students. Jim absorbed as much as he could, sharing details of his own where it was appropriate.

"You did some teaching in Finland?" Uhura had sounded incredulous but Jim just shrugged.

"If you want to know about something, go to the best place to learn," he replied. She spent half an hour bugging him for words in Finnish from that point and Jim struggled to recall words beyond 'beer', 'please' and 'thank you'.

"You're full of surprises, Jim Kirk," she said when she stood up to leave. Jim just smiled and shook his head.

"You haven't seen anything yet."

* * *

Jim got into his car at the end of the day and sank into his seat. He felt too drained to even put the keys into the ignition but he knew that he was going to have to eventually or he'd hit rush hour traffic and end up taking an hour to get back to his place.

He managed to pull out of the car park without dinging someone else's car, which he considered a victory at that point and managed to make it home within an acceptable amount of time.

Opening the door he groaned at the sight that greeted him. He hadn't been especially proactive with unpacking and most of his things were still in boxes in the hallway. He slung his keys on top of a box and dragged himself into the kitchen.

There was nothing in his fridge except for a single beer and a block of cheese that he had bought to make himself grilled cheese in the morning. He snagged the beer and returned to his lounge.

He dug around in boxes until he found what he was looking for. He reverently pulled the record deck out of its bubble wrap, setting it on the counter that he'd bought especially to house it. It took a while to set it up, correcting the weights and attaching the speakers. He then went on the hunt for his records.

He found them in his bathroom of all places, and began to rifle through them. He finally found a decent enough vinyl, pulling it from the selection and heading back to the lounge. There was a crackle as he set the pin down, then the soft, deep tones of Nina Simone warmed the apartment.

He collapsed onto his couch, swigging from his beer and staring at the bare wall in front of him.

God, he had his work cut out for him.

* * *

Jim had spent the previous day acclimatizing. He had finished his displays, finished labelling his books and making sure everything was where he wanted it, hunted down textbooks and packets of pens and stationary. The classroom wasn't perfect, but it felt like a space he could teach in at least.

It was only when Uhura came down to meet him to take him to lunch on the final day before term started that Jim realised there was one member of staff he hadn't met yet and that was his neighbour. He saw the door was slightly ajar and turned to Uhura.

"Who's classroom is that?" he asked. Uhura looked a little uncomfortable and shrugged a little.

"Doctor McCoy's. He teaches Biology and is, well, kind of grumpy. Don't get me wrong, he's got a heart of gold it's just… He's not been the same since his divorce," she said softly. Jim raised his eyebrows. He was second in department, he should have been introduced to everyone if he was going to be their boss. It was bad form to start term without having met a member of staff.

"Go on ahead. I better introduce myself," he said. Uhura looked hesitant for a moment before she nodded and walked off, her heels clicking on the floor. Jim spent a moment appreciating her figure as she walked away before he turned back to the task at hand.

Jim peered through the door. The classroom itself was dark, the curtains having been drawn tightly against anything so cheerful as sunlight. Every space was methodically taken up by something, though it wasn't anything of note. Textbooks lined back benches, the shelves had more textbooks, mostly on human biology, or else there were pupil's notebooks in drab brown boxes. Even the posters on the walls looked like they'd seen better days, dog-eared and slightly yellowed with age.

It was the man at the front of the classroom who drew Jim's attention though. His head had shot up when he heard the door open, dark eyes narrowed and clearly ready to say something dismissive. He seemed to be brought up short by seeing Jim there though.

The man had dark hair, cut in a style that suggested that he had perhaps once followed fashion and now could no longer be bothered but kept going back for the same cut. He had a good build, broad and strong looking, but the hands that were shuffling papers on his desk looked elegant and long fingered. He was dressed simply, a black suit, black tie, white shirt, the clothes a man who has one suit for church, funerals and work would wear.

"I hope I'm not intruding. Just wanted to introduce myself. I'm the new Second-in-Department. Jim's the name. Jim Kirk," he said, stepping inside. The man rose to his feet and so Jim traversed the classroom to introduce himself. The tiles were slightly uneven, meaning he had to watch his feet as he stepped.

Then suddenly the man was before him and Jim could see his eyes weren't just dark, but hazel flecked with green. He was being offered a hand and he quickly took it, his palm feeling sweaty with sudden nerves.

"Leonard McCoy, biology," the other man replied. Jim nodded, he'd already known that. He glanced around the classroom again, feeling awkward. Just as he was about to start some small talk about something like the weather, he saw it. In the corner, virtually hidden away behind a stack of books, was a full human skeleton. Jim hadn't seen one like that inside a classroom in years.

"Is that real?" he asked, stepping away from McCoy to look at it in more detail. McCoy huffed.

"You think we'd have a real human skeleton in a school, kid?" he replied gruffly. Jim turned round, grinning and holding up the skeleton's hand, making it wave.

"Well, it wouldn't be the weirdest thing that I'd have discovered in a classroom," he replied. McCoy raised his eyebrow and said nothing. Jim began to trace up the white, smooth plastic (at least he hoped McCoy wasn't lying and it was plastic).

"If you'd stop molesting my bones, I have work to do," McCoy said. Jim chuckled and shook his head slightly, dropping his hand and leaning back against the desk.

"Want to get some lunch?" he asked. McCoy scowled at him and glanced at the clock. It read 4:47 and he saw McCoy scowl at it.

"That darn clock. Always showing the wrong time!" he snapped, as though verbally abusing it would help. Jim chuckled and grabbed a chair. He hopped onto it, snagging the clock off the wall and setting it to read the correct time of midday instead. McCoy watched him warily the entire time.

"See, lunch time. What do you say, Bones? Let's go get something to eat," Jim pressed as he hopped back down off the chair. He wasn't sure whether the nickname would stick. The way that McCoy's eye twitched at its use made Jim want to keep using it. He clapped the other on the shoulder.

"I brought lunch from home," McCoy said, gesturing to a tupperware container on his desk. Jim shrugged and put the chair back where he'd found it. McCoy was watching his every move like he was a dangerous animal and Jim didn't know whether or not to be flattered.

"Hey, I just wanted to drop in and say hi. If you're really busy or something, we don't have to talk," he said, putting his hands up in a placating gesture. He could see the guilt pass over the other's face and knew that he'd won.

"I guess I can eat with you," McCoy conceded. Jim smiled brightly and decided to forego getting food from the cafeteria, choosing instead to pull up a chair to McCoy's desk and sit down, rolling up his shirt sleeves as he did.

"So then, Bones, why don't you tell me all about your time at Enterprise High School?"

* * *

McCoy had painted a rather colourful picture that Jim was sure 80% of which was exaggeration. Even so, he had recognised something in the other. There was a hint of brilliance there, a hint of something beyond the normal. He'd seen it in all the staff, but their genius was stamped on their classrooms, in the resources they had somewhat shyly shown Jim, in the way they talked in morning briefings about what they had planned for the year ahead.

With Bones it was in all the things he'd tried over the years. Tried. All past tense. He spoke about various lessons he'd done, things he'd tried, but when Jim tried to get him to talk about the future? Bones somehow always managed to turn the question back on Jim to avoid it. It was like the man saw no path towards improvement and it got Jim curious as to what had happened.

Uhura had mentioned a divorce, and if anything could make it difficult for a man to continue such a high-stress job as teaching, it was a troubled personal life.

Of course, none of this had anything to do with the fact that McCoy was a very attractive man. Jim could appreciate that the other was handsome, that he was fit in a way that lead to strength and power, rather than agility or tone. He had long-fingered hands and a full mouth that made Jim wonder how many teenage girls and boys had imagined Doctor McCoy outside of the workplace.

Still, eye candy aside, Jim knew that he was going to have to try to get through to Bones probably more than he was going to have to try to grow on Spock. The other would respect his academic achievements, his sound strategies backed by research, but McCoy… With McCoy he was going to have to inspire. To lead by example and hope that McCoy got caught up in the tide.

He couldn't deny, he was looking forward to it.

That night when Jim got home, he set his record player going, swaying to the sound of Jimi Hendrix as he unpacked box after box, then set is alarm for 6am before passing out.

He dreamed of Georgia accents, being late for school, and the way that Uhura's skirt rippled when she walked.


	2. Balloons

**Chapter 2: Balloons**

* * *

**Summary**: "What can I say, Bones? I'm an asshole unless I'm sweetened appropriately," Jim replied, waggling his eyebrows a little. McCoy just raised an eyebrow though Jim thought he detected a slight upturn at the corner of his mouth.

The bell went.

Jim sat at the front of his classroom, nervously checking over the register one more time. There were at least three names he was sure weren't even names but just random combinations of letters and a further five he wasn't even sure he could pronounce. He sounded them out in his head, trying to think of an easy way to pronounce them, not wanting to get them wrong straight away but in the end he knew that no matter what he did, he was most likely going to get them wrong.

The first student filtered in. They eyed him warily, like a deer eyeing up a predator, taking a seat on the opposite side of the room. Jim tried his best to smile reassuringly. The student threw her bag on her desk and gave him a smile back that didn't meet her eyes.

"Hi. I'm Mr Kirk. Your new homeroom teacher," he said, trying to muster some cheer. She blinked slowly at him.

"Kelly," she replied. Jim glanced down at the register. There wasn't even a Kelly on there.

"Um… Kelly? Are you sure you're in the right class?" he asked, trying to remain friendly. The girl plopped down into her chair, adjusting her jacket on her shoulders.

"Yeah, I'm sure," she said and that was that. Jim sat back and waited for the class to fill up. Being allowed to sit where they wanted meant that people naturally filtered into their friendship groups. Jim's eyes devoured it all.

The 'Cool' kids who were trying too hard. The 'Cool' kids who just were naturally popular. The 'Bad' kids who were definitely trying too hard. The 'Hyperactive' kids who were hopefully just excited to see their friends again after the summer. The 'Quiet' kids who had sat there, staring blankly at the front, looking rather terrified. The 'Nerdy' kids who were already buried in books or showing each other comic books under the table.

Well, that was just stupid.

According to the timetable for the day, they were going to be stuck together for an hour while the Principal greeted the freshmen and that left Jim with time to fill. He tapped his fingers against the DVD case on his desk, wondering if this was going to work as well as he thought it was.

"That seems like everyone," he said, standing up. Of course, no one paid attention to him. A few eyes flickered over to him as students carried on talking and he smiled as his nerves dissipated. Some things changed, but children were always children.

"Alright then…" he muttered, walking to the front of the room and putting his hands in his pockets. He stood in front of the whiteboard and drew a deep breath.

"I only ask for quiet once. If you can't handle that, you can spend the morning stood outside my classroom in the corridor and come back at the end of the day to do homeroom again," he said, projecting his voice so that he knew everyone in the room heard it. The room quietened, not immediately, but fast enough that Jim couldn't pinpoint exactly who spoke last.

"Good. I'm Mr Kirk. I'm a physics teacher and your new homeroom teacher. I'm aware that last year you had a series of supply teachers," Jim introduced himself, looking around the tired, bored looking faces in front of him. Nice to see you all so early in the morning too.

"Well, I'm here for the foreseeable future. At least until you graduate in any case, so let's try to get along and not piss each other off," he said, shrugging a little. A few students at the back giggled in a he said a bad word way that Jim had been hoping for. A bit of tension leaked out of the room. A few students were still trying to get the measure of him though, obviously aware of the game he was playing.

"Now I've got a list of names here that I can't pronounce and a load of paper that I've been told you have to sign or eat or stick somewhere I couldn't care to question where. So how about we get all the admin out of the way quickly and then we watch one of my favourite films while I get to know you guys?"

None of the students said a word and Jim sagged a little. Oh well, he knew that their united hatred of 'Stand By Me' would no doubt join them together in a collective 'I don't get it this film is so weird our homeroom teacher is so weird' soon enough.

* * *

The morning passed so quickly that Jim felt like he'd barely blinked before it was lunchtime. He stretched, shuffling the paper on his desk and lamenting that there was so much of it already. So many forms and spare worksheets and even worse, the previous year's assessments. He wasn't even going to touch those until tomorrow.

He grabbed his lunch from his desk drawer, an apple and a rather wilted looking salad that probably tasted alright still even if the texture was slightly mushy. He'd forgotten about the Georgia heat. He put the Tupperware container under his arm and started eating the apple as he left his room, locking it behind him.

The science office was empty and Jim frowned. Did everyone work through their lunch here? Well, that was going to have to change. He sat down, finishing his apple and picking at the core for a few moments before he threw it into the bin from where he was sat, watching it arc through the air and hit the wastepaper inside with a satisfying crumpling sound.

He poked at his salad. It was slimy, slightly soggy and generally unsatisfying. If it weren't for the fact that he felt he needed to after his most recent bout of fast food after moving, he would have thrown it and taken his chances at the cafeteria instead. He finally forced down the last mouthful and stared morosely around the room.

Gee, the party in here was really lively.

He threw the Tupperware box into the small sink and pulled a mug out of the cupboard to make himself a coffee, figuring he might as well go back to his room. He paused though, as he removed it, noticing that there was a mug from Ole Miss there. His cast his mind back to the website, the qualifications of everyone he worked with running through his mind.

McCoy.

He snagged the cup and poured out a second cup of coffee. He dumped enough sugar in his to give a nutritionist a heart attack. He then took both of them down the hall, walking straight passed his door and into the next room. He opened it precariously, watching as small drops of coffee dripped down the side of his glass as he tried to use his elbow on the door handle.

The door suddenly opened.

"What in blazes are you doing?"

Jim smiled, seeing McCoy's grouchy face. The other's top button was undone, his tie pulled down a little. The room felt stuffy, like McCoy couldn't be bothered to open the windows so had just started to undress himself instead. Jim held up the two mugs.

"How did you even know that was mine?" McCoy asked, taking the mug from him and stepping aside so that Jim could walk in. He did so, sitting down in one of the student's chairs opposite McCoy's desk. He sipped his coffee, savouring the bittersweet taste of it.

"I can smell the sugar in that from here. That's not good for you, kid," McCoy said, sitting down at his desk and putting his coffee to one side to cool slightly. Jim shrugged, sipping his again with a happy sigh.

"What can I say, Bones? I'm an asshole unless I'm sweetened appropriately," Jim replied, waggling his eyebrows a little. McCoy just raised an eyebrow though Jim thought he detected a slight upturn at the corner of his mouth.

"So, why are you buttering me up by bringing me coffee to my classroom?" McCoy asked, turning so that he wasn't looking into Jim's eyes anymore. Jim watched as his hands skimmed over a pen before selecting a red one, picking up starting to scrawl all over what appeared to be a test paper.

"Are you marking exams already?" Jim asked, incredulously. There hadn't been enough teaching hours, surely, to have already started giving students tests?

"You know the statistics. Kids take until late October, even November, to get back to the same stage academically as they were before the summer vacation," McCoy grumbled. "I don't trust the assessment scores from June to accurately predict where they are in September after they've spent a summer getting drunk in parking lots and vandalising public property."

_Educational theory mixed with a healthy bout of disdain for young people. Brilliant._

"Tests on the first day back, Bones? Way to kill enthusiasm," Jim said, though he smiled to disarm the barb. McCoy scrawled a comment in red ink that looked particularly vicious if the pen jabs were anything to go by.

"Yeah well, I haven't got a single kid in detention yet, so that's a first," he replied. Jim chuckled.

"I've got eight," he replied lightly. McCoy looked up then, his pen pausing halfway around circling one answer. His eyes registered disbelief.

"Eight," he repeated blankly. Jim nodded, shrugging self-depreciatingly.

"Yep. They got a bit carried away with the balloons," he replied.

"Balloons," McCoy parroted. Jim raised his eyebrows, wondering if the other was just going to repeat everything back at him.

"Yeah. We were reviewing parts of an atom. Some of them got a bit carried away with them. You know how it is. Give a teenage boy two balloons and he's going to shove them up his shirt and pretend to be the prettiest girl on the cheerleading squad," he said. McCoy actually did smile then.

"You're going to have to change the way you teach to fit in here. That might work in leafy suburbia but if you give the kids an inch here, they're going to take a mile," he said, as though he was dealing out words of great wisdom. Jim sipped his coffee, choosing his next words carefully.

"I'm going to do exactly the same thing tomorrow with a different class," he said. McCoy put his pen down, sitting back in his chair and regarding Jim for a few moments. He reached for his coffee, picking it up and sipping it.

"You're either an idiot or stubborn," McCoy said after a few moments. Jim grinned.

"Why? Because I believe that these kids are as capable as the ones who live out Dunwoody way?" he asked, putting his mug down and regarding McCoy carefully. He could see that McCoy was reassessing him.

"That's not the issue here. Of course they deserve the same but it's not one-size fits all. Even the best teaching needs adapting," McCoy pressed. Jim leaned back in his chair.

"Oh. It was adapted, sure. I mean, I didn't teach it the same as I did back in Finland, but by the end of that class, every child understood about protons and neutrons well enough that they were able to answer an exam question on it. And they had fun. Probably a little too much fun, but I should have been clearer with my rules before laying out the task," he said. It was interesting. He'd met characters who didn't want to change before. Even the most progressive teachers got set in their ways and dismissed ideas easily when it felt like something that they would never do.

But McCoy was something else. Jim could tell the other understood where Jim was coming from. It was almost like he was being deliberately obtuse to test him out.

It was a _challenge_.

"You're something else, Kirk," McCoy said, shaking his head. Jim laughed.

"Please, call me Jim," he said, relaxing a little into his chair. "And I honestly think it was a god thing. You should come and watch the next lesson. Maybe you can offer me some pointers in how to control the kids better? The Bones way?" he suggested. McCoy rolled his eyes.

"If I call you Jim, will you drop that ridiculous nickname?" he asked. Jim noticed that he hadn't agreed to come to watch the lesson, but he guessed the invitation was out there now.

"Never. You're Bones now. Through and through," he said, sipping his coffee. McCoy stared at him for a moment.

"You're insufferable. How have you managed to climb so high so fast? You don't seem like the brown-nosing type," he said. Jim was about to respond when the bell went. He glanced up, sighing and realising he probably should leave. McCoy got to his feet as well, grabbing another pile of photocopied test papers that made Jim wince to look at.

"I'll leave you to it," he said, scooting out from behind the pupil desk and walking over to the door. "But if you change your mind about coming and giving me some tips, it's just after lunch tomorrow. I'll see you then."

"Yeah maybe. Thanks for the coffee… Jim."

* * *

"Uhura Uhura Uhura Uhura Uhura-"

"Stop it," Uhura said, looking up from her computer screen. The students in the room had all turned to stare at him as he entered. Jim just smiled at them as he made his way to the desk and leaned his hip against it.

"Ever get the feeling you're famous? You just walk into a room and everything stops," he said cheerfully. The students nearby seemed to take that as a sign to continue what they were doing, turning back to the textbooks they were working with.

"You know, you've got the tense wrong there," Jim said helpfully, pointing to one student's work. Both Uhura and the student frowned at him. "Hey, I did some travelling in Spain," he defended himself.

Uhura slipped out from behind her desk, going to check the student's work. Her eyes glanced up to Jim when she noticed that he was right and she helped the student through the correction before turning back to Jim.

"What do you want, Mr Kirk? As you can see, I'm busy right now," she said. Jim beamed at her.

"Just a quick question actually. What's your favourite food?" he asked. He was almost certain that every student in the room was listening. Uhura rolled her eyes and sat down behind her desk.

"I'm not discussing this with you right now. If you insist on discussing pointless things, please wait until non-teaching hours," she said firmly. Jim just grinned.

"Well, you see. I was thinking of starting a breakfast club, but if you're not interested in the thought…" he trailed off. Uhura's nails tapped against keys on the keyboard.

"I eat fruit for breakfast, Mr Kirk," she said, her tone dismissive. Jim grinned and turned to leave. He was at the door when he heard Uhura clear her throat.

"But I think the others would prefer pastries. And we have vegetarians in the department so make sure it's suitable," she said. Jim turned to her and beamed, saluting her as he left the room.

And so the rumour mill began.

* * *

"That new teacher! Mr Kirk? He's a bit, you know, weird isn't he?"

"He's hot!"

"What? Oh c'mon! He's old enough to be your dad!"

"No way! He's like twenty or something!"

"I heard he's seeing Miss Uhura!"

"What?!"

"Yeah they were flirting in Hannah's Spanish class!"

"No way! I don't believe it!"

"Uh-huh. Though I think Miss Uhura can do better. That new guy's kind of smarmy."

"He's allowed to be when he looks like that."

"You just like blonde guys."

"Yeah well, better than you, freakface."

"I would be hurt, but that insult was so pathetic I'm not even sure which of us got burned."

"Has anyone had him for lessons yet?"

"Yeah. Daequan had him this morning. Got a detention for trying to shove a balloon down his pants, the retard."

"A balloon? Why was he even-"

"It's Daequan. There doesn't need to be a reason."

"See, the boys here are so immature!"

"That doesn't mean you should be mooning over Mr Kirk. You were bad enough with Doctor McCoy last year… That was embarrassing."

"Oh shut up."

* * *

"Mr Kirk, is there any particular reason why the staff office is filled with balloons?"

Jim looked up to see Spock stood somewhat awkwardly in the doorway. In his hand was a single red balloon. He looked completely and utterly bewildered. Jim smiled and got to his feet, glancing at the clock. It was less than five minutes until the end of the day and he was glad for it.

He'd put all the balloons that the kid had used in the office to try and cheer it up a bit, guessing that everyone would need it after their first day. Spock didn't look so much cheered though as poleaxed.

"Yeah. The kids were using them today. Just thought I'd brighten up the place," he said with a shrug. Spock stared at him for a moment, eyes unblinking. Jim fought the urge to squirm.

"Please refrain from doing so in future," Spock said finally. "They pose a health and safety hazard."

"Balloons do? Really?" Jim asked, folding his arms. Really, this was ridiculous. Why was everyone here so determined to squash all his fun. First McCoy, then initially Uhura, now Spock?

"Yes. If you-" Spock was cut off by a whooping sound from down the corridor.

"Hikaru! You must look! Zere are balloons! Many many balloons! Is it a birthday? Nyet, where is the cake?"

Jim laughed a little at Chekov's excited shouting before the door to the office closed. A moment later the bell rang and the corridor filled with pupils. Spock seemed to realise he looked rather strange, standing around with a balloon in his hand.

"In future, do not decorate the office space, Mr Kirk," he repeated over the excited noise of pupils. Jim nodded and watched Spock disappear into the crowd, fighting against the waves of students as he waded towards the office.

When he opened the door there was the distinct sound of laughter and a loud bang as whatever it was Chekov and Sulu were doing in there filtered through.

Jim closed his door, shutting out the noise until it died down a little. He walked to the other end of his classroom, looking out of the windows towards the staff parking lot. His room overlooked a particularly ugly fire escape as well.

_Beautiful view. Really, fantastic. I couldn't imagine having a nicer classr-_

Jim frowned. The fire escape door opened. He was about to go tell off the stupid student who had opened it when he saw it was McCoy. The man slipped out, dashing down the fire escape and towards the parking lot. Jim glanced at the clock. It was barely three minutes after the bell.

_Someone wants to go home early and has the balls to actually duck out…_

He watched McCoy get into a beaten up looking car and pull out of the parking lot. It was slow going, competing against students who just wandered in the way of the car. Jim frowned slightly.

He resolved that he was going to solve the mystery that was Leonard McCoy.


	3. Observations

"Jim, can I have a word?"

It's not what Jim wanted to hear when all he wanted to do was get in and do some photocopying. Christopher Pike looked immaculate, but then he didn't have a teaching timetable to adhere to. His days of standing in a reprographics room, tiredly pulling out paper jams and watching as the minutes of his apparent break ticked by were over.

He was led into Pike's office, the first time he had been since his interview. It seemed a comfortable enough space, a little sparse for Jim's tastes though. He wasn't offered a chair so therefore he didn't sit. Instead Jim clasped his hands behind his back, hoping that this was going to be over quickly.

"I wanted you to know I've pulled you off timetable this morning. You're not going to be teaching. At the senior management meeting last night we felt it was best if you were allowed some time, perhaps once a month, to observe other members of staff in the school," Pike said without preamble. Jim tried not to let his displeasure show on his face. The first few weeks of school were so important for building bonds with classes and setting up the ground rules, being absent was _not_ okay.

"Sir, I appreciate the thought and I would certainly love to do it in the future-"

"That's good-"

"Only it's not really the time. I'm trying to get my classes on board with a new type of learning they aren't used to-"

"It really isn't a suggestion, you know-"

"Well it damn well should be!" Jim clamped his mouth shut after that. Pike wasn't looking amused.

"You were hired to raise the standards of _teaching_ in this school, Kirk," he said calmly. Jim tried not to let it show on his face that he felt that was bullshit. He was a _teacher_, he couldn't work miracles.

"Certainly, but how can I tell someone how to teach when I don't have a clue about the kinds of kids they are teaching? How can I march into a classroom and _observe_ without understanding the context-"

Pike raised a hand and cut him off. Jim looked at the floor rather than at Pike. He knew he'd lost this one, much to his chagrin.

"You'll see Uhura, Chekov and McCoy before lunch. Fourth period we'll have a feedback session," Pike said. Jim nodded and turned on his heel, stalking out of the office without saying anything further. He didn't like this at all.

He went to his classroom and booted up his computer. He'd have to scrap every lesson he'd planned. There was no way a supply teacher would be able to deliver the lessons he'd imagined. Growling, he grabbed textbooks from the back of the room and started writing instructions on the whiteboard, lists of page numbers and mind-numbing work where students were expected to copy and complete tables from a textbook.

No challenge. No fun. Just words on paper. Page after page of written work.

He was using the end of the whiteboard marker to scratch his forehead as he read a bit more of the textbook, deciding if the activity within was enough to fill an hour, when he heard his door open. He was surprised to see it was McCoy.

"Mornin'," Jim greeted. McCoy just gave him a look that said 'it is not a good morning and fuck anyone who tries to tell me it is'.

"I've heard you're observing me today," he said, his tone difficult to read. Jim nodded, putting the textbook on his desk and giving McCoy his full attention.

"It's not going to be a judgmental one. Just something Pike wants me to do really," he said with a shrug. McCoy folded his arms. Jim knew there were some teachers who thrived under the pressure of an observation, who loved it, who requested it. Jim thought they were rather mad. Most who taught did not enjoy the thought of a fellow practitioner invading their space and telling them what they were doing wrong. And there was always _something_ that they were doing wrong.

Jim was used to being observed by others. It didn't _bother_ him. He didn't like it, but he knew it was necessary, especially if you were meant to be leading by example. Even so, he liked to have time to prepare, to put on something really amazing for someone to watch. Jim knew that not every lesson was something you wanted someone to form an opinion on your ability to teach from.

By the look McCoy was giving him, McCoy was not someone who enjoyed the thought of a spectator in his classroom.

"You going to be feeding back?" McCoy asked. Jim shook his head.

"To be honest, I want it to be as informal as possible. Just think of it like I've popped in to see a student and don't change anything from what you'd normally do. Besides, you can always turn the tables on me if you'd like after lunch?" Jim reiterated his invitation from the previous day. McCoy looked sceptical and Jim didn't blame him.

There was no such thing as someone being in your classroom 'informally'. The bond between a class and its teacher was… something special and unique. Another body in the room often disrupted that. Not to mention that Jim was fairly sure that none of the lessons McCoy had planned were anything he wanted someone to see.

"I don't want to pressure you," Jim said finally. He looked into McCoy's eyes, hoping he seemed sincere. McCoy's expression was still set in a firm scowl, the only expression Jim had seen him wear pretty much. Even so, he realised that McCoy's eyes were much more expressive. If he masked his emotions on his face, his eyes told the full story. McCoy was nervous.

Jim didn't know what he was doing until he'd crossed the space between his whiteboard and the door and put his hand against McCoy's arm.

"Honestly, you're going to be fine. Say, do you want to help me get breakfast stuff out of the car? I brought in some stuff for everyone before briefing. We can get coffee afterwards," Jim offered. McCoy relaxed minutely and stepped out of Jim's touch in order to step out of the door with a nod.

McCoy led the way to the parking lot and Jim tried not to be unnerved by the silence. He guessed that McCoy hadn't had his coffee this morning yet and that probably was at least some of it. It being 7am probably wasn't helping either.

They got outside to his car. Jim walked over to it, putting the key into the door to open it. She was old, a classic, and didn't have something as crass as an automatic unlocking system. He was never going to get her upgraded to one either. There was something satisfying about watching the buttons on the doors come up.

"Chevrolet Stingray… Pre-80s right?" McCoy asked. Jim looked up and saw McCoy reverently running a hand over her hood. His hands were really long and elegantly fingered.

"1978," Jim replied, opening the door and reaching into the passenger's seat for the bags of pastries. Enough to feed not only his own department, but probably the cleaning staff who tidied their classrooms as well.

"She's well-cared for," McCoy said, taking one of the brown paper bags from Jim's hand. Jim smiled.

"My dad had one back in Iowa," he explained, straightening and shutting the door with his hip as he juggled the grocery bag in his arm. "But when he died, it sat gathering dust in the garage. One day my mom's new husband said he was going to sell it so just to spite him I took it out of the garage and road it clear across Riverside. Drove it off a cliff."

McCoy's mouth was open. Jim couldn't help but grin a little self-depreciatingly. "I bought this one when I came back from Europe. Felt nostalgic and I had nothing else to spend the money on."

"You drove a car off a cliff?" McCoy repeated. Jim laughed a little and began to walk back towards the school doors, his arms wrapped around the bags that were giving off the enticing aroma of freshly baked croissants.

"I was a bit wild when I was a kid," he replied. McCoy raised an eyebrow but elected to say anything more on the matter. Jim couldn't help but feel a surge of affection for the other man. There was something about McCoy, beneath that standoffishness that Jim felt he could get on with. The way that McCoy had welcomed him, without seeming trite about it.

And watching McCoy's ass as he walked up the stairs was definitely a job perk that Jim hadn't been expecting.

Uhura's classroom management was impeccable. Her activities were simple but effective. Elegant. She could silence talking pupils with a glance in their direction. Her questioning of pupils understanding was comprehensive and showed clear understandings of Bloom's Taxonomy and various other questioning styles. It was absolutely outstanding.

Jim was finding very little to criticize at all. He sat in the back of the classroom, idly drawing hearts around Uhura's name while he flicked through worksheets and lesson plans that she'd provided. He noted down a few things, just to be picky. One student had slumped onto their desk. A quick word had got him up and working again and Jim had to raise an eyebrow in appreciation of Uhura's classroom management. Seriously, he had no idea why he had been asked to observe her, unless it was to compare to what he was about to see elsewhere.

At the end of the lesson the class filed out and Uhura came to stand by him. Her face was completely impassive, neutral but Jim could see the hint of nervousness beneath that. He could also see a bit of a fight in her eyes, that if he assessed her lesson as anything less than amazing, she would argue him into another judgment.

"Wonderful, Miss Uhura," he said, rising from his seat and handing over his notes for her to read. "I'll type up the official stuff later for you to keep a copy of but honestly, one of the best language lessons I've seen this side of the Atlantic. You have a passion for languages and it shows."

He was almost sure that Uhura was blushing and a smile spread across her face. Jim held out his hand for her to shake and she took it, handing back the paper with the other hand.

"Now I just have to work on it being the best language lesson you've ever seen, Mr Kirk," she said, her voice pitched high in confidence. Jim laughed and nodded, releasing her hand to walk to the door.

"I'll see you later, Miss," he said before he stepped out of the room and closed it behind him. The corridor was mostly empty already, most pupils having filtered into their new classes. He dashed down the corridor to Chekov's classroom. He knocked before he opened it.

The classroom was… rowdy. The kids were all talking to each other; some were out of their seats. Jim glanced to Chekov to see the other was stood at the front, waiting patiently for the students to see he was ready to teach. A few students saw him enter the room and began to quieten and by the time Jim had walked to the back, there was, if not silence, then quiet.

"Wery well, let's begin," Chekov said and clicked onto another slide on his projector. Behind him an atom appeared. It was the lesson that Jim had been teaching with balloons the day before, although Chekov had made or found a 3D model instead that was rotating slowly on the board.

Jim watched as pupils started to come up to the board, using the interactive whiteboard with varying degrees of success to identify the different parts.

"Sir! But you know… if that's what an atom is… what's the stuff like… in between all the electrons and protons and stuff?" One pupil near the front asked. Chekov nearly bounced with enthusiasm. Jim saw a few of the girls near him share smiles.

"_Zat_ is an interesting question, Max! Ze answer is zat we do not know! And _zat_ is why physics is much more exciting than other fields of science! Zere is so much we do not know and so much left to discover! Perhaps you will be discovering it!" Chekov's smile was bright and sunny. Jim smiled slightly. The rest of the lesson was pretty standard. It was basic work on dissecting different atoms and how they worked, with a bit of an interesting segue into the existence of exotic matter for discussion at the end. Jim was pretty sure that some of the pupils in the room hadn't quite got the basics though.

The thing was he could appreciate that Chekov had a true passion for physics, could see his gift shown in the way that he bounced around the room like an overactive puppy. But he couldn't say that the lesson was quite on par with Uhura's. He was younger, rougher around the edges, still finding his style and comfort zones. He was still learning how to convey the knowledge he had to the students.

He didn't show Chekov his notes the same as he had Uhura, instead he shook the other's hand, smiled brightly and reminded Chekov that it was his turn for breakfast pastries in the morning. The Russian had beamed at him, though Jim noticed a bead of sweat run down the back of his neck.

"Don't be so nervous! Honestly, it was an alright lesson," Jim reassured him, clapping him on the back. Chekov shot him a grin that seemed genuine.

"And zat is easy for you to say. I am not being used to hawing a physics specialist wiew my lessons. It is nerve-wracking. I cannot be making any errors," he said. Jim chuckled.

"Kid, you are a certified genius in astro-physics. I'm pretty sure I could learn something from you rather than be able to spot you making a mistake," he said cheerfully. The next class had started to file in and Jim ruffled Chekov's hair, causing the other to yelp and swear at him in Russian.

Laughing Jim ducked out and left Chekov to it. He walked down the corridor, tapping his pen against the palm of his hand. It was Leonard McCoy's turn now. He wondered what he was about to see. Would McCoy bring out the big guns? Would Jim see the kind of teacher that McCoy _could_ be? Or was he going to see a somewhat flat lesson?

He didn't expect what he got, that was for sure. McCoy was at the front of the room, the class was silent, and they were already working directly from textbooks. Jim noticed that the back of the room was completely taken up by students and the only desk left for him to sit in was right at the front by McCoy. He took the seat at the front, aware that McCoy would be able to see whatever he wrote and he waited for the lesson proper to begin.

Only it never came. The class continued to work silently, the only sounds in the room quiet coughs or sniffles and the scratching of pens against paper. McCoy didn't look up from his desk once, working steadily at grading papers. Jim's knee started to jump restlessly. He looked around the room again.

The pupils looked terrified, like they didn't want to move in case they broke the silence. Jim saw one boy unzip his pencil case with exaggerated slowness so that he didn't make a sound. He glanced back at McCoy.

This was… embarrassing. It made Chekov's lesson look almost godly in comparison. He longed to get up to the front, to start asking questions, chatting to the pupils, anything other than the morgue he felt he'd wandered into.

The fact that there was nothing much too actually observe meant that Jim watched McCoy instead. He really was good-looking, in a rugged kind of way. He had a small amount of stubble, a tell-tale sign that he hadn't shaved that morning, and his constant frown made his expression almost constantly intense. Jim wondered if he looked that way when he was undressing people, all that concentration and care turned onto the object of his-

Jim cleared his throat and tried to dispel the thoughts running through his head. A few students looked at him, then glanced at McCoy and quickly looked away. McCoy looked at him for the first time too and Jim cast him a small smile. McCoy just frowned and looked back down.

"Get your stuff together and get out. See you all tomorrow," McCoy announced suddenly. Jim looked at the clock. Had he really spent only forty minutes in here? It felt like he'd spent a century in there. Although the daydreams had been somewhat pleasant. He glanced down at the blank sheet of paper and sighed.

When the last pupil left, Jim got to his feet.

"What did you honestly expect to see, Kirk?" McCoy snapped suddenly. Jim immediately felt on the back foot. Compared to their slightly more friendly conversation earlier, it was strange that McCoy had become so antagonistic.

_He knows this isn't good enough. He knows he's not doing this right and he's sure I'm going to attack him on it_.

Jim held up the blank piece of paper. "I didn't see a lesson, Bones, so I can't judge anything."

McCoy's lips thinned and Jim wondered if he was about to get throttled or yelled at. Instead McCoy heaved a deep breath and, for a moment, his expression eased a little and Jim could see the line of his brow without the deep furrows it usually had. He felt his stomach knot a little.

"Well, that's blunt," he replied. Jim shrugged.

"I saw no starter activity, no plenary, no range of activities, no consideration to pupil's learning styles… Bones, I want you to do well. So I'm going to come and see you again and next time I'm going to give you warning. I want you to _try_ because it looks like you've given up," Jim said, shrugging slightly. McCoy looked at him sharply, frown back in place.

"You don't know anything about me, kid. Perhaps I was always this kind of teacher?" he growled. Jim smiled, holding up his hands to show that he wasn't cowed but didn't want a fight about it.

"Because you aren't. I know you aren't. I can see it in you. That ability to do well, to be a true genius at what you do and I'm going to make sure that you shine Bones. I think you've spent too long being the grumpy troll at the end of the corridor and it's your turn to start to do something interesting that shows the rest of the department that Sulu isn't the only teacher who is capable of pushing kids not just through their exams, but into truly enjoying the subject," he said. McCoy's expression was unreadable and Jim wasn't sure he wanted to know what the other thought of him right at that moment.

"Get out, Kirk. I want a break and your incessant chatter is just going to make that harder," McCoy said. Jim knew a dismissal when he heard one and he nodded, making sure he had all his things and leaving straight away.

"I refuse."

Jim gritted his teeth. Pike was pretty much demanding copies of his notes from his observation trail and like _hell_ he was handing them over. He hadn't observed his fellow practitioners as a spy for the management. Their feedback should be constructive, not used to write reports or add to their employment records.

"Kirk, it's not like you can refuse to give me data on your department," Pike replied evenly. Jim shook his head, his hands clenched into fists in his pockets.

"I promise you that the starting point of all the staff is already well-documented. This is ridiculous to demand. Maybe at the end of the year, when changes have been implemented-"

"If there are weak links, they have to be identified, Jim," Pike replied and Jim bristled slightly at the other's use of, not only his Christian name, but a shortened version of it. He hadn't had this impression of Pike at interview and he wondered why the other was suddenly on his case.

"I know that this department will be the best Science Department in the state within three years, but there's no use exposing people when they haven't even had a chance to evaluate their own performance!" he replied. Pike looked at him, blue eyes stern as he seemed to measure Jim's reaction.

"The best department within three years, huh?" he asked, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. "We might not have that long Jim. They're threatening an inspection sometime this year and it might be next week for all I know. I _need_ that data."

Jim shook his head. He unclenched his fists so he could lean on the back of the chair in front of him. He purposefully met Pike's gaze, shoulders squared and determination making his jaw twitch.

"I'll do another round of observations after Thanksgiving. Give me until then and I promise you, you'll have your data," he said levelly. Pike leaned back in his chair, rubbing against his brow absently as he thought.

"Until Thanksgiving then. And don't think I don't know who you're protecting, Kirk. I know enough about my own school to know that it wasn't Nyota's lesson that went awry," he said, sighing deeply. Jim straightened, keeping his face carefully blank.

"Miss Uhura is an excellent teacher," he agreed. Pike looked at him carefully for a moment longer before shrugging.

"Get out of my office then, Kirk. You've got kids to teach."

Jim was laughing so hard that his eyes were watering. The class looked somewhat chaotic, with children seeming to be running around everywhere with balloons and little signs that held coded messages on them that they had to decrypt using answers from each other's cards, but honestly, it was all in good fun.

One boy had just managed to finally get it and used the weirdest metaphor Jim had ever heard for how an atom worked. He was just managing to get himself under control when the door to his classroom opened.

Jim turned, surprised to see McCoy frozen in the doorway. For a moment, McCoy looked completely and utterly perplexed, before his face returned to its default scowl. He walked across the room to where Jim was standing.

"This looks…" McCoy trailed off and Jim watched as his eyes surveyed the room. He saw the moment that McCoy got what was going on, saw his eyes widen fractionally when he realised that amidst all this chaos, there was something wonderful happening.

One kid ran into another, quickly apologising, trading snappish answers before parting ways to pounce on another unsuspecting victim.

"It's pure and utter chaos. Just the way I like it- TAMMY DON'T YOU EVEN THINK ABOUT TURNING ON THAT GAS TAP!" Jim broke off his sentence to yell at a girl who had reached forward to turn the gas tap on. Her hand shrank back from it instantly and she gave Jim an innocent smile before returning back to what she was supposed to be doing.

"How do you avoid having the mother of all headaches after every lesson?" McCoy wondered out loud. Jim laughed and clapped McCoy on the back.

"Oh you know, I keep a jar of Tylenol in my desk and a prescription for Valium under my pillow at night," he replied off the cuff. McCoy let out a huff that might have been a chuckle and Jim felt a warm feeling in his stomach. "You gonna stick around and watch for a bit?"

He asked the question casually and he saw the conflict on McCoy's face. If McCoy stayed, there was no excuse in saying that he didn't know what Jim was looking for from lessons, but if he didn't stay he might miss out on something interesting. McCoy eventually began to move across the room and, to Jim's surprise, he started to join in, asking students what they were doing, shadowing a few around the room as they completed their task.

When it was time for them all to sit down, it took Jim about five minutes to settle them all, getting them to find pens that had been brushed onto the floor and to put balloons back where they'd found them. Still, when he started to ask questions, nearly every pupil in the room was prepared to answer.

Getting them writing was harder and Jim noticed that McCoy had sat with one of the less able pupils, carefully guiding them through the writing up of the task. The poor boy looked out of his mind with terror at first, but within a few minutes he was pure concentration, clearly listening to McCoy's drawl as the other talked him through the work.

Jim went around the room, talking to each pupil about whatever it was that they wanted to talk about. Some of them wanted to talk about the work, some of them had questions about him, some wanted to talk about television or films or computer games. He treated every conversation as a chance to build a relationship with the child in question before moving on to the next. The result was that by the end of the lesson, every single pupil had completed the task set and Jim breathed a sigh of relief as they left the room.

"What can I say, Kirk, your reputation isn't unfounded. That was amazing," McCoy said once the pupils had left. Jim looked up at him and grinned brightly, feeling a flush of pride surge through his chest. He began to shuffle spare worksheets a little nervously.

McCoy moved closer, standing in front of him now. His shirt was wrinkled and he smelled of shower gel and anti-perspirant rather than anything particularly pleasing, but Jim felt suddenly overwhelmed. He couldn't meet the other's eyes.

"What can I say? I'm a genius," he said, shrugging and turning to put the worksheets in the recycling. McCoy didn't move or say anything more until Jim turned back. Jim could see there was a look on his face, like the other was seeing him truly for the first time.

"You're blushing," McCoy observed. Jim rubbed the back of his neck and tried not to turn any pinker even as he felt his cheeks heating.

"I know I'm good at my job, Bones," he replied easily, trying to throw off the compliments with nonchalance. The truth was, he was used to people hating him for being a newcomer, used to people associating his success with his looks or with his fortunate family; accepting compliments for just himself, for just being Jim Kirk who was a good teacher, felt unnatural.

"Then why are you blushing like a school girl after her first kiss, Jim?" McCoy asked and Jim could hear the light teasing in his voice. His throat closed up and he looked up at McCoy, meeting the amused hazel eyes and opening his mouth to speak, before licking his lips and closing it again.

"Er…" he replied eloquently. McCoy chuckled, deep and low and rumbling and Jim felt his stomach knot again. It was really rather inconvenient to have developed a crush on a colleague, especially one that seemed to be able to get him worked up so easily.

"I'll leave you to think of a witty comeback. Be sure to tell me when you think of it," McCoy said, heading to the door. When he got there he paused, his hand on the door knob. He paused, looking back at Jim.

"Thanks though. For… letting me watch your lesson," he said, nodding before yanking the door open and leaving.

Jim collapsed into his desk chair and stared at the door as it swung shut behind McCoy.

_Well shit_.

_Georgia… Georgia… The whole day through…_

Ray Charles crooned from Jim's record player. He kicked off his shoes, pulling his plate of soggy vegetables and overcooked meat onto his lap as he checked over the student's work with the hand he wasn't eating with.

_Just an old sweet song…Keeps Georgia on my mind…_

He jammed a particularly large piece of broccoli into his mouth, ignoring the bland taste as his brow furrowed. It was the student that McCoy had been helping earlier and Jim could see, clear as day, the way that McCoy had carefully constructed the pupil's learning. McCoy's scrawl was dotted around the page, rewording questions and sentences to ensure better understanding of the tasks at hand.

_I said Georgia… Georgia… A song of you… Comes as sweet and clear… As moonlight through the pines…_

McCoy was a mystery. A man who knew what he should be doing, knew how to do it, clearly cared deeply. He was gruff, but not unfeeling. In some ways, he was the opposite of what Jim had observed of Spock. Spock was full of creative teaching methods, but there was very little emotion behind it.

It seemed like it was emotion that was holding McCoy back.

_Other arms reach out to me… Other eyes smile tenderly… Still in peaceful dreams I see… The road leads back to you…_

Had it just been the divorce that had made McCoy the way he was? McCoy had been right to say that Jim didn't know him, couldn't make a true assessment of him from one lesson that he'd seen. Even so, he wanted McCoy's respect, he wanted to help him, he wanted… His stomach did the weird flipping thing again.

_I said Georgia… Whoa Georgia… No peace I'll find… Just an old sweet song… Keeps Georgia on my mind…_


	4. Alcohol

"Hey Jim, me and Pasha were wondering if you wanted to go for a drink with us after work tonight?" Sulu popped his head through Jim's door. He'd been at the school for two weeks and managed to establish himself pretty well. As September dawned and the leaves started to change, he realised that he was going to be bogged down dealing with reams of paperwork. It was fairly obvious to him that the school needed to update not only its behavioural policies, but also swap to paperless communication.

But today. Today was _Friday_ and that was almost a godsend to Jim. A whole two days until he needed to be in work again. Not that he wasn't enjoying his job, just that anyone who worked with kids knew, you needed time off almost as desperately as you needed to be in the classroom.

"Sure thing. I'll need to travel home to drop my car off though," he said, secretly pleased that Sulu had thought to invite him out. Sulu smiled.

"No problem. Drop your car off and head to Rí Rá. Happy hour ends at seven but we're usually there until closing. The place serves food too if you want it," Sulu said. Jim nodded, knowing he was going to have to get a taxi to the place. He hadn't heard of it, but he was willing to try anything just to stop staring at the blank walls of his apartment.

"Alright then. I'll see you down there in about an hour," he said, throwing down his pen and turning off his computer with a flourish. Sulu laughed a little.

"I hope you can hold your booze, Mr Kirk. Friday nights always end up being a little rough on the weak."

Sulu hadn't been kidding.

Jim had arrived just after five and everyone was already there, though judging by their full drinks they'd only just beat him to the place. He waved and made his way to the bar, surprised it was already so busy so early. It was an Irish bar, the inside done up in a way that seemed like someone had _perhaps_ seen the inside of a true Irish pub although with the football being broadcast on all the screens, Jim couldn't say it felt one hundred percent authentic.

He ordered himself Guinness – _when in Rome… - _and headed back to the table. Uhura scooted over in the booth to give him space to sit and he sat down, loosening his tie and shoving his wallet back in his pocket. Scotty and Uhura were both there, drinking what looked to be whiskey on the rocks. Sulu and Chekov were both on beers, though Jim couldn't have said if it was European or American.

"No Spock or McCoy?" Jim asked. Uhura rolled her eyes.

"Oh they never come out. Spock doesn't drink and McCoy doesn't socialise much," she explained. She'd changed before coming out, wearing black jeans, a t-shirt and a leather jacket. She looked amazing and Jim felt a little bad that he hadn't thought to at least change his shirt. He didn't feel too bad though, when he took in that all the other men were also still in their work clothes, their jackets thrown over the back of the booth and their shirt sleeves rolled up.

"I am wery glad you are not a sourpuss like those two Jim!" Chekov said, taking a deep swig of his beer. "It is always interesting to hawe new drinking buddies!"

Jim just raised his pint in toast to Chekov and took a sip of it. He made sure to wipe off his foam moustache before he placed the pint back down. Beside him Uhura started talking about one of her classes, sharing a story about one of the students and Jim let the tide of the conversation ride over him.

"What about you Jim? You must have interesting stories?" Uhura asked. Jim blinked, surprised at being addressed and took a long swig of his drink before answering.

"I don't know. I mean sure, I've seen some stuff but it's never really interesting to hear stories about other people's travels," he said with a shrug. Scotty leaned forward, the ice in his class clinking as he caught it with his hand.

"I heard from McCoy that you drove your dad's car off a cliff when you were younger," he prompted. Jim frowned, wondering when McCoy and Scotty had been gossiping about him.

"Yeah, well, it's not something I'd ever recommend doing," he replied. Scotty leaned back in his seat with something akin to horror.

"It was a _Stingray_, Jim. You just don't do that to a _Stingray_," he said, his tone horrified. Chekov was looking between the two of them and Sulu was wisely finishing off his beer.

"Boys, boys, let's not get caught up in car stories, _please_," Uhura said, finishing her drink and sliding the glass across the table. "Jim come and help me with the next round."

Jim gratefully got to his feet and followed her to the bar. She rattled off the order to the bar maid before she paused, looking at him.

"What are you drinking? Another Guinness?" she asked. Jim shook his head.

"Nah. Gives me nosebleeds if I drink too much. You drinking whiskey? I'll have that," he said with a shrug. Uhura smiled and ordered another glass of Jameson's on the rocks. Jim watched her profile carefully.

"You know, I've been wondering. There's a lot of single male teachers on the staff list… why aren't you seeing someone?" he asked. Uhura's eyebrows rose to her hairline but she didn't scowl, instead smiling a little indulgently.

"I'm not interested, if that's what you're getting at, Kirk," she said. Jim laughed, thanking the barmaid quietly as she set down the three whiskeys in front of them.

"That's not what I was getting at, actually. Although you're beautiful, and I certainly wouldn't say no, something tells me you'd eat me alive," he replied, taking a sip of the whiskey and letting it warm as it went down.

"You're right. I would. Oh and Kirk, you're paying," she said, before taking the two beers back to the table and leaving Jim to settle the round and carry back three glasses of whiskey. She hadn't even given him his answer.

Jim was drunk. Wasted drunk. The kind of drunk he hadn't been since college. The room was spinning. He was pretty sure he needed to sit down. No wait, he was sat down. Where was he again?

Sulu was wearing his tie as a bandana. That was funny. Jim couldn't remember why though. Was it a stereotype thing? Would it be racist to tell Sulu it was funny? Jim slurred it to him and Sulu kissed his forehead and told him he loved him.

Uhura had left hours ago, citing the need for an early night as she had to be up in the morning, and left him, Sulu, Scotty and Chekov to drink more and more until Jim had to grip the bar to remain standing.

"Zis is my song! Yes! Get up we are dancing!" Chekov shouted suddenly and Jim felt himself being pulled onto his feet. It should have been awkward. Four grown men all dancing together in an _Irish pub_ no less, but Jim couldn't care. He wasn't really _dancing_ anyway, more shuffling from side to side until he bumped into either Scotty or Sulu and then moving the other way again.

This had really been a great idea.

That had really been a bad idea.

Jim held onto the toilet bowl for dear life as he relived the night in reverse. Who had suggested cocktails? Who had started fed him pizza? Who had convinced him that mixing whiskey and vodka was a great plan?

He wretched pitifully, shaking from head to toe, his head pounding.

He was never going to drink again.

Ever.

Monday morning came too fast. Jim was used to hangovers, but not ones that lasted more than one day. Saturday had been a complete write-off, and Sunday hadn't fared much better. He came in on Monday morning feeling like he hadn't had the weekend off at all. He sat behind his desk, staring at the pile of work he'd abandoned on Friday and put his head in his hands.

"Good morning, Captain!"

He looked up to see Sulu there, a bag of groceries in his hand that proved that it was his turn for Jim's impromptu breakfast club. Jim gave him a warm smile, wondering why he was suddenly being called 'Captain' all of a sudden.

"Oh there's the look of confusion that says you don't quite remember all of Friday night," Sulu said, laughing as he threw Jim a bottle of water from the back and a croissant. Jim gratefully opened the water. He was pretty sure he'd never rehydrate again.

"You're right. I don't even remember leaving Rí Rá," he admitted. Sulu's grin turned a little evil.

"Well, we hit up a few bars afterwards. We were a whirlwind. And at one point, you tried to down a fifth of Captain Morgan's rum. Which would have been impressive if you hadn't immediately gone to the bathroom to be sick," Sulu said cheerfully. Jim stared at him. A fifth of a bottle… No. Way.

"You're lying," he decided, more for his dignity than anything else. Sulu just laughed.

"Nope. You were amazing. I've never seen someone so drunk and yet still standing and able to form words," he said. "But man, you're crazy when you get drunk. I still can't believe you managed to get that girl's number!"

Jim frowned. He'd got a girl's number? He pulled out his wallet, digging through it until he found a business card with the name 'Gaila' written on it, and a number. He stared at it for a moment wondering who the _fuck_ Gaila was.

"Oh Sulu! Are you debriefing ze Captain? It was a wery fun night!" Chekov appeared at the door, walking in and helping himself to pastries out of the grocery bag. Jim was just staring at the card in his hands dumbly.

"I should probably call her…" he said. "Was she hot?"

"Smokin'," Sulu confirmed, grinning still. Jim shook his head, a grin forming across his face in spite of himself.

"Tell me that you don't do that every Friday night? I think I'd give myself liver damage," he said. Sulu chuckled and shook his head.

"No, usually it's a lot more tame than that. A few drinks then home. I guess you just needed to let go a bit," he said, before glancing at Chekov. "I guess we all did."

Jim talked with them for a few minutes after that, laughing about some of the things that they'd done while drunk, reminding each other of their behaviour. At one point Sulu flat out denied that he'd been dancing to Kylie Minogue, until Chekov pulled out video evidence and they all laughed at the uncoordinated boogie-shuffle that Sulu had been trying to perform.

"Whoa. What're you all doing in here?"

Jim looked up to see McCoy stood there. Chekov was laughing hard still, mimicking the best parts of Sulu's dancing. Jim smiled and gestured for McCoy to come look but Sulu snatched the phone out of Chekov's hands.

"No way! You don't come on the night out, you don't get to see the aftermath. I'm invoking _nomikai_ rules! What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas!" he declared, shutting off the phone and the screechy tones of _Lucky_ disappearing. McCoy just blinked.

"Right so you guys went out on Friday night again, huh?" he asked and shook his head. He turned to Jim. "And you're a fool if you let them convince you it was a good idea. They end up the talk of the staffroom every single damn time for doing something either illegal or stupid."

Jim felt like a high schooler getting told off for underage drinking and he couldn't help but grin at McCoy.

"Maybe you should come along next time, McCoy? Might do you good to do something that could be considered illegal in some states?" he suggested and then wondered if the alcohol had addled his brain because that had _definitely_ been a come on and Chekov and Sulu were looking at him like he'd grown an extra head. Hell, _McCoy_ was looking at him like he'd grown an extra head.

"When I want to end up getting reacquainted with my toilet bowl, I'll let you know," McCoy replied after a silence that stretched just a little bit too long. Jim tried not to grimace. "I'm actually here to ask if I can steal some glue sticks. Some little shit has eaten mine or something…"

Jim gestured for McCoy to help himself and the other did before leaving. Chekov and Sulu were still staring at him with their mouths open.

"Dude-"

"Did you just-"

"No," Jim said firmly. "No I did not."

Jim spent the rest of the week dodging comments from his colleagues. Uhura wanted to talk about the night out, Chekov and Sulu kept making comments about Jim's _illegal_ activities and Scotty refused to call Jim anything other than 'Captain'. By the time Thursday rolled around, even Spock, who Jim would have thought was above such things, was calling him 'Captain' with a curl to the corner of his mouth.

Added to his frustration was the fact that every day, like clockwork, McCoy dashed out of the fire escape and down the stairs without a backwards glance. While Jim and the rest of his colleagues were stuck marking books and doing their _work_ (and okay, being subjected to good-natured teasing about their ability to hold drink), McCoy was already on his way home.

And just what was so amazing that McCoy needed to escape just as the bell went?

Jim watched the fire escape door open and resolved, in that moment, to see for himself.

He grabbed his car keys and raced down the corridor, dodging through the fire escape door and hoping the old fire escape didn't collapse under his rapid footfalls. He saw McCoy's car leaving the car park just as he got to his Chevrolet and slid inside, starting her up and reversing as fast as was safely possible out of the parking lot.

Following McCoy was stupid, but Jim guessed he wasn't being rational. He was curious. Did McCoy have a second job? That could explain a lot. Did he have to be home to let out an animal or to go to a class? Did he have something that was oh so important that he couldn't spend a moment longer in school when everyone else was working? What was it?

What made McCoy tick?

Jim followed him further and further out of Atlanta until he was in the leafy suburbs that housed some of the best schools in the area. He drove past a high school that had tried to headhunt him when he'd first come back to America, an international school that had some of the highest grades in the state. It's pupils were leaving the gates, dressed in blazers and looking like they'd stepped out of the 1950s.

Finally McCoy pulled into a side street and Jim curious followed him. There was an elementary school there. McCoy's car pulled up and Jim pulled up a safe distance behind so he wouldn't be seen. McCoy didn't exit his car, none of the children who were walking passed seemed to so much as glance at him. After five or so minutes, McCoy pulled away and drove off again.

Jim scowled, staring at his steering wheel and wondering what the hell had just happened.

"So… Jim… Captain Jim… Jim the Captain…" Sulu walked around the back of Jim's classroom on Friday morning like the devil himself. He had a smirk on his face and was running his hand over one of the desks.

"No," Jim said firmly.

Yet at five, at Rí Rá, there he was, a pint of Guinness in front of him and Scotty laughing into his shoulder.

It felt good. It felt strange.

It felt like making friends.


End file.
